A Silent Sunday Morning
Once the sound of the bus had faded away, all that remained was an eery silence. Was this Rue Notre Dame? The street that was always slammed with traffic on my morning walks through Old Port? The one that is usually lined with pedestrians and countless construction vehicles during the day?
Where is everybody?
It was truly a strange sensation that I experienced on my way to the Fuji Walk in Old Port last Sunday. My morning walks on my way to work in Old Port take me from the Lachine Canal over to the Square Victoria area on a daily basis. At 8:00am on a weekday, there is quite a bit of traffic and activity, but apparently that is not the case on Sundays. Not the case at all.
I came home with a series that showed me a side of Old Port I don't usually see: an empty one. Tourists would literally choke these alleyways four hours later, but for now it was dead quiet.
It wasn’t completely abandoned. There were a couple of cars here or there, a mother pushing a child in a stroller, a woman walking her dog and tourists, desperately craving their morning coffee, cupping their hands to peer into still dark cafes. But those encounters were few and far between, and it felt creepy with the overcast skies ominously hovering above me. Creepy as in walking through an abandoned hotel, turning the corner and finding two twin girls staring at you at the end of the hall.
See? Not completely alone, but still creepy.
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